


Making It Up As We Go

by firefly124



Series: 2019 Advent Drabbles [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AdventDrabbles, M/M, mentions of past (temporary) MCD, spoilers through spn 15x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: Dean’s not entirely sure what he’s looking at, but he’s almost sure it’s a message from Chuck.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: 2019 Advent Drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560085
Kudos: 14





	Making It Up As We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the AdventDrabbles community on Dreamwidth to the prompt [Christmas sweater](https://imgur.com/YHgP8Xz).

Dean blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. Nope, still there. It was way too early for this shit.

“Here’s your coffee,” Cas said as he handed over a steaming mug. 

Dean took the mug but didn’t drink. He wasn’t entirely sure this was actually Cas.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Did you have another nightmare?”

“I might be having one right now.” Dean closed his eyes and shook his head, but nothing had changed when he opened his eyes. “What… what the hell are you wearing?”

Maybe-Cas looked down at the blue monstrosity with the snowflakes in a band across it. And a zipper. Who even wore sweaters with zippers?

“The sales associate assured me this was ‘seasonally appropriate’ and ‘festive.’” Cas tilted his head and regarded Dean with concern. “I thought, despite the origins of the holiday and Chuck’s machinations, that I would do well to embrace the season.”

Yup, that was Cas. Dean took a sip of the coffee, which he was now reasonably sure wasn’t drugged.

“And you’re sure that ‘sales associate’ wasn’t actually Chuck?” Dean asked. “Or some demon he’s resurrected? Hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to resurrect Balthazar as a Wally World employee.”

“Balthazar? Dean, I’m afraid I do not understand your concern.”

Dean resisted the urge to go dump a couple of fingers of whiskey into his coffee.

“I told you the last time Chuck wanted to teach us a lesson, he pulled Lilith out of the Empty to do it.”

“I still find that difficult to believe. The entity there seemed quite certain Chuck held no power over that realm.”

“He’s brought you back before, though,” Dean said. “Maybe that entity was lying.”

For a moment neither of them said anything. Cas went over to the table and sat. Out of habit as much as anything, Dean followed suit.

“Why would you believe that Chuck had brought Balthazar back for the purpose of selling me this sweater?” Cas finally asked. 

“Because I’ve seen it before,” Dean said. “When Balthazar threw us into that weirdo world, where our life was a tv show, the actor who played you—Misha something or other—he wore that exact same sweater.”

“Oh.” Cas mulled that over for a few seconds. “I can see why that would be disconcerting.”

Dean gulped down the rest of his coffee and gritted his teeth as he fought down the urge to smash the mug against the wall. Damn Chuck and his fucking interference.

“However, you seem more than disconcerted.”

“Virgil killed him,” Dean blurted. He gritted his teeth again to fight back everything else that threatened to spill out. All he could see was fake-Ruby crying hysterically as she told them what had happened. That wasn’t Cas, but Cas was here now, wearing that damned sweater. If Chuck was trying to send a message, it was one Dean refused to accept.

“I see.” Cas unzipped the sweater and shrugged out of it. “I will attempt to return this.”

“I’d rather salt it and burn it,” Dean muttered, looking down into his empty cup. When he looked back up, Cas’ eyes were filled with sadness.

“If that will provide reassurance to you,” Cas said, “then we can do that. I was thinking that another alternative would be to bring it to the shelter in Salina.”

That nearly broke Dean. Now tears did fight their way into his eyes, though he refused to let them fall, grinding his eyes shut. Image after image flashed through his mind. The look on Cas’ face when Dean had told him he couldn’t stay at the bunker. Cas with a cast on his arm. Dead in that Reaper’s apartment. Dead on the ground, wingprints burned into the ground. Cas in front of him, that fucking note from Chuck folded neatly on the chair beside him, wanting to use it to help someone else.

“Yeah,” he finally said, looking up at Cas, “let’s do that. That’s… that’s better.”

“He can set up the choices,” Cas said. “At least, he can try. We’ve never been good about choosing from his list, however, and I see no reason to start now.”

Another memory. Standing at Chuck’s door as the “prophet” insisted they weren’t supposed to be there, and Cas disagreeing.

“Making it up as we go, huh? I like it.” Dean smiled in spite of himself.

“It’s what you taught me free will is for,” Cas said. “Still seems like a good lesson.”

“Salina, huh? That’s a good hour away.” Dean stood up. “Well, closer to two for most, but who’s counting. One more cup of coffee, and let’s hit the road.”

“I’m not sure this is a job that requires two people,” Cas said, “though I would welcome the company.”

“Then that’s our plan for today.” Dean poured himself another cup. Behind him, he heard Cas leave the kitchen, hopefully in search of his trench coat. It was weird seeing him in shirtsleeves. Not bad weird. Just weird. He gulped down the hot coffee and turned off the machine. Sam could nuke his when he got back from his run or whatever. He went to grab his jacket and keys. Time for him and Cas to make it up as they go.


End file.
